


Entry In Harry's Diary

by emma_b



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU: 1970's, AU: Mental Hospital, Angst, Anxiety, Bipolar Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Depression, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Doctor Eleanor, Eating Disorders, Fluff, Implied abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, M/M, Mental Illness, Mentions of drugs, Mentions of sex trafficking, Nurse Liam, Suicide Attempt, attempted overdose, lots of mental illness, mentions of gang violence/murder, talk about self harm, warning: self harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-13 14:16:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3384773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emma_b/pseuds/emma_b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where it's 1974 and 19 year old Harry tries to kill himself and ends up in a private mental hospital where he meets five people who change his life. And maybe he falls in love a little too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! This fic is set in the fall of 1974 and during this time, the DSM II (The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, version 2) is what psychiatrists and psychologists used to diagnose mental illness and their symptoms. Because I don't own the DSM II, I am going to use the DSM V (our current DSM) for diagnoses and symptoms so it won't be accurate for the time period (e.g. bipolar disorder replaced "manic depression" in the 1980's when the DSM III came out).
> 
> I'm going to be adding tags as needed throughout the story because some of the stuff I plan on writing may get dark and it could possibly trigger some of you readers. I will always have warnings before chapters in the notes as well for extra precaution. 
> 
> WARNINGS:  
> Talk of suicide, overdose, and self-harm
> 
> *Any body of text separated by asterisks is a flashback*

Harry didn’t care much for hospitals, they smelled strange and it was germ infested and countless people have _died_ in one place. Certainly Harry would never have guessed he almost died in one too, but the doctors did good and fixed him up and now he’s in an all-boys mental institution for healing and help.

Harry didn’t care much for mental institutions, as fate would have it, but he hadn’t meant to overdose.

And now here he was, lying in an uncomfortably small bed with a pillow that’s too soft and sheets that are too scratchy. He was wearing the same clothes as he was the night he almost died and they hadn’t been washed. Harry shared a room with a boy who didn’t seem to want to be bothered and never got out of bed. He didn’t talk at all and in all honesty, Harry didn’t quite mind.

*

Harry was instructed to go to the medical wing of the institution straight away and he was accompanied by a cheery male nurse named Liam who was, in Harry’s own words, _definitely daddy material_. Liam had pointed out the different areas of the institution to him like the other patients’ rooms and the common areas and the place you were to pick up your medicine when needed and the cafeteria.

Harry was supposed to go there to have lunch after his meeting with Doctor Calder, the psychiatrist who owned the institution. Harry would have to tell her that she needed to do some major redecorating; this place was very off putting. The place was empty and cold and the beige walls were boring and frumpy and the halls smelled like medicine and hopelessness. The lights were a bright fluorescent that was harsh on the eyes and flickered every so often.

It’s not that the place wasn’t _livable_ , he just wished he was at home with his own bed that he was comfortable in with his mum and his sister.

Harry audibly sighed and glanced out one of the many windows in the hallway. _Maybe an air freshener and bar-less windows would help it feel more home-y_ Harry thought to himself, seeing the bars shadow cast on the tiled floor from what little sunlight seeped through the glass and inside.

“Here we are,” Liam said to Harry and opened a solid oak door with a nameplate on it in fancy gold lettering.

When they entered, a friendly woman looked up from her papers on her desk and smiled, “Hello, I’m Doctor Calder. This is Liam, your nurse but I assume you already knew that. We’ll be taking care of you for the duration of your time here. Have a seat.”

 _Pretty_ , Harry noted about the doctor and sat in one of the chairs opposite of her desk.

“You must be Harry Styles, yes? Attempted overdose on sleeping medication,” she said, reading over something in a manila folder. “Your mother admitted you here after a two week stay in the hospital, it says here.”

Harry didn’t respond.

“I guess I’ll go over the logistics with you since it’s your first day- well, it must be nighttime now innit?” she asked, looking over at Liam.

He nodded, “Half past eight now, I do believe.”

“Long drive here, then, yeah? From Cheshire?” Dr. Calder asked him.

Harry only nodded.

She nodded too and flicked a strand of long brown hair over her shoulder, “You’re here now that’s the important part. Harry, I spoke with the therapist you’re going to be working with for the duration of your stay. Your first session will be with Mr. Gregory Bohn and is at eleven tomorrow morning.”

“You don’t talk to me, then?” he asked her, quirking an eyebrow up. “Try to fix my brain?”

Dr. Calder shook her head delicately, “I don’t see the patients unless I’m needed for a psychological evaluation to confirm that the patient needs medicine. I write the prescriptions, so you’ll be seeing me sometimes.”

Harry nodded again.

“How are you feeling today?” she asked him.

No answer.

“Better? Worse?”

Harry crossed his legs and sat up straighter in his chair. He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at his lap. He didn’t like when people tried to pick his brain and get him to talk about his feelings.

 _I shouldn’t have to be here_ he thought bitterly.

“You’re going to have to be a little more talkative than that,” nurse Liam said with a kind smile. He folded his hands behind his back. “Therapy is going to be difficult if you can’t talk about how you’re feeling.”

“I feel fine,” Harry snapped at him.

Doctor Calder smiled sympathetically, “It’s been a long day right? Bit tired and hungry? Why don’t you go have your dinner and watch a little tellie and then go to bed?”

“I want to go home,” Harry said quietly.

“That,” Dr. Calder said, “Will only happen when you’ve been properly healed. We’ll have you fill out all your paperwork tomorrow with Mr. Bohn, okay?”

With that, Liam showed Harry to the cafeteria but he said he wasn’t hungry and went back to his room to sleep.

*

Therapy, Harry decided, was a lot of paperwork and no progress would be made until his next session in three days. Mr. Bohn said he wasn’t going to make him come every day, but if things weren’t getting any better he would have to come see him more often. He did say, however, that he would have to go to group therapy every night like all the rest of the boys.

They did talk enough that- “Call me Greg, please Mr. Bohn is my father.”- Greg made the conclusion that Harry was severely depressed and that Harry should write in a journal to channel his feelings so he could learn to cope better since he didn’t have anything to self-harm with anymore. He would make an appointment with Dr. Calder to get him on medication straight away so the healing process would begin.

Greg informed Harry that group therapy was at seven p.m. every day after dinner, which was at six o’clock every night. At six forty-five all the boys would have to get their medication and at seven they all went to group.

“There’s only ten other boys who live here,” Greg said, trying to ease Harry’s apprehension about talking about his feelings in front of complete strangers.

“This place is so big though,” Harry pointed out.

Greg shrugged, “It used to be an old prison, most of the place got demolished when Eleanor bought the place and renovated it. Plus, after the war was over a lot of boys lived here for a long while.”

That Harry understood, he was born after Hitler was long gone but it was still the mid-seventies and he was only nineteen. He heard lots of stories from his friends’ parents about the war and what that man did to so many people. Harry could imagine these halls filled to the brim with all those veterans, trying and failing to forget the horrors of the war.

“Anyway we’ve got about five minutes left of this session before you go off to lunch. Is there anything you want to tell me now that I can write down so we can talk about on Friday?” Greg asked.

Harry shrugged, “Is being gay still a mental illness?”

Greg shook his head and added in an eye-roll for dramatic effect, “Not since they revised the DSM for about the umpteenth time a few months back. It’s 1974 kid, love is love. Being gay has and never will be an illness.”

Harry didn’t care much for therapy, but he sure seemed to like Greg a lot. He figured him and his mum would get on quite well.

 

Harry’s mum- Anne- came to see him that day at two o’clock sharp when visitation started on Tuesdays- it started at four on Thursdays. She said that she’d finally been able to get his Uni classes refunded since it was only a week into the new semester and that he wouldn’t ever have to go back if it would make him happy. She cried and cried and cried and Harry feared for Zayn’s comfort as they were sitting in his room on his awful bed. His mother was hysterical, especially after he’d pointed out how rude she was being.

Anne told Harry that she didn’t bring his sister, Gemma, with her today because she didn’t want her seeing her brother in a mental institution. _Has she told the neighbors I went off to America then?_ Harry wondered to himself.

Anne had to be ushered out of the institution because she had overstayed her welcome but she had so much to talk about since it had been weeks since she got to proper talk to him.

Harry skipped dinner once again and stayed in his room with Zayn who still hadn’t said a word to him.

Harry kind of liked Zayn.

 

Liam had walked into the boys’ room and informed them group was starting in five minutes and they ought to get down there soon. Liam ensured Harry that Zayn would show him where they were to go but Zayn didn’t really make any noise to confirm the nurse’s statement.

It wasn’t until 7:10 when Harry got out of his bed and timidly crept over to Zayn’s bed to talk to him. What he saw before him was equal parts sad and beauty. _Model material_ is what first came to Harry’s mind when he saw him. High cheekbones, molten brown and gold eyes, full lips, warm caramel colored skin, beautiful dark, dark hair that was long on top and shaved on the sides. Eyebrows that were shaped to perfection and a beard that hadn’t been tended to in days- they weren’t allowed razor blades.

Besides his obvious striking beauty, he was also very sad. His shoulders sagged with a weight that Harry could feel but not see, his unblinking eyes clouded with sadness and anxiety always looking off into the distance but seeing nothing in particular. His beautiful mouth was turned down slightly and his body was much too thin. He looked defeated, his aura felt defeated.

“Mate,” Harry said quietly. Zayn’s eyes slowly dragged up Harry’s face to meet his own green eyes, “We should probably go, yeah?”

Zayn blinked in response.

“I don’t want to go either,” Harry said picking his words carefully, “But it’s my first day at group and I don’t want to look bad.”

Zayn blinked at Harry once more and rolled over. “Don’t wanna look bad but you’re in a bloody mental institution,” he heard Zayn mumble quietly. His voice cracked in a certain way that made Harry think he hadn’t spoken in hours, maybe days. “That’s ironic somehow.”

Harry sighed, “Can you at least tell me where to go?”

“Room 112,” Zayn said after a moment of silence, like it was almost a burden to even speak. “Down the hall and to your right. Door’s got a big window in it and you’ll see the chairs.”

“Thank you,” Harry said. “I- um, I’m not going to eat my Jell-O Liam insisting on giving me since he noticed I hadn’t been eating. You can have it if you want.”

He then exited the room quickly out of sheer awkwardness, he had noticed that was the only thing Zayn ate that Liam would slip to him as well.

Harry managed to get down the hall in minutes and opened the door to find a group of boys all around his age, bit younger some older. They were all listening to whatever Greg was saying.

“Glad you could join Mr. Styles,” he said. He closed his bible and offered an empty seat to Harry that was next to a red headed boy and a pretty blond boy.

“Zayn didn’t come today then?” the boy asked him once Harry had sat down. He had a thick Irish accent and he reminded him a bit of a marshmallow. Because he was cute and huggable. “I know he’s your roommate so…”

“Right, no, he said he didn’t want to come,” Harry said to the boy. “Gave me directions here though so that was nice of him I suppose.”

“You got him to talk to you?” the blond said excitedly. “He hasn’t been talking for days! How exciting.”

Harry furled his eyebrows, “I guess.”

Greg clapped his hands together twice and said, “On that happy note, why doesn’t everyone introduce themselves and say a little bit about themselves so Harry here can feel more comfortable? Harry would you like to start?”

“Not really, no,” he said with a frown.

“I’ll go!” the chipper blond said. “The name is Niall Horan, I’ve got bipolar one disorder. I’m from Mullingar, Ireland and transferred here to London on a footie scholarship at Uni but since I’m fucked in the head I’ve been in and out of the hospital and they said I couldn’t play anymore.”

“I’m Ed Sheeran,” the redhead said. “I’m what they call a sociopath and I used to use a shit load of drugs and I steal a lot of stuff.”

And they went around just like that until another boy barged into the room during a soldier’s confession of having terrible reoccurring nightmares that drive him insane. This boy dragged another boy behind him who had half a red Jell-O cup gone and the spoon hanging from his mouth. Harry smiled, happy to see that Zayn took him up on his offer.

“Sorry we’re late,” a very loud boy said. “I had to drag this sorry arse out of bed, if I’m forced to come then so is he.” The loud boy pulled Zayn to the last two empty chairs in the room and sat him down next to him.

Greg rubbed his temples and sighed, apparently the loud one was troublesome for the therapist.

“What did we miss?” loudmouth asked, his wild blue eyes glanced around the room until they landed on Harry’s. “We’ve got a newbie then?”

“Yes,” Greg said. “Mr. Harry Styles, Zayn’s new roommate. We were just going around the room introducing ourselves for him.”

“Ah. Well,” loudmouth started, “as you know that’s Zayn he’s got multiple personality disorder-”

 “You twat,” Zayn mumbled, taking another bite of Jell-O.

“Sorry,” he smiled at the boy lovingly. Rude, loudmouth turned his attention back to Harry and said, “My name is Louis Tomlinson, I’ve got an eating disorder and I’ve got BPD. I’m also very single.” Louis winked at Harry and Harry felt nothing but curiosity.

“That’s so inappropriate Louis,” Ed scolded beside Harry.

“What is BPD?” Harry asked him.

Louis opened his mouth to answer him, but Greg beat him to it. “Borderline personality disorder,” he explained.

“I’ve got an unstable pattern of interacting with others,” Louis explained, shooting a glare at Greg. “And a really large _gay_ penis that would-”

“Enough,” Greg barked at Louis who rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair. The others were giggling but Harry’s cheeks were bright pink. No one had ever talked to him like that before. Or hit on him so… obviously and in a near harassing manner.

“Tell us a little about yourself, Harry,” Greg prompted.

Harry breathed heavily out his nostrils and said quietly, “My name is Harry Styles. I was admitted here yesterday because I guess I tried to overdose. Um. I’ve got depression and, like, some anxiety I guess. I’m nineteen and I used to really like to knit.”

“Do you self harm?” Niall asked beside him. “I do. Did you use knitting needles? I tried once but they weren’t sharp enough.”

“Niall!” Greg exclaimed.

“I used to. Can’t really now,” Harry said. He ducked his head so that no one could see his face. He felt so ashamed. “I used to use razor blades.”

Harry tried to swallow the lump in his throat. _Why do I have to tell all these fucking strangers about my life_? Harry wanted to scream when the room got quiet. They were all judging him and he fucking knew it.

“I burned myself,” Louis’ voice nearly echoed in the room. He was a loud talker but his voice sounded nice so Harry didn’t mind much. “Like with those pins girls put in their hair? Lit them up with my lighter. Don’t be ashamed. I’m sure most of us in here have done it.”

Harry snapped his head up to meet Louis’ eyes, “How can I not be ashamed?”

“That’s the point of group,” Louis said, not realizing Greg was about to answer. “We all come together to share our stories and our troubles so that we don’t feel alone and, like, fucked up you know?”

“You know there’s a lovely passage in the Bible about loneliness,” Greg said.

Louis audibly groaned and slumped down in his seat, “I’m sick of this religion and “God” shit you put us through every day. Seriously it’s all bullshit and I don’t want to hear it.”

“Some of us like hearing the word of the Lord,” one of the other boys, Nick, said calmly. “It gives some of us hope.”

“Some of us are beyond believing in any sort of hope, sweetie,” Louis deadpanned. He gave the boy a lingering glare before settling on looking over Zayn with a careful expression.

“The Lord is my shepherd I shall not want,” Harry said catching Louis’ eye. He shot him a wicked grin, “That I really, really do not want.”

Louis returned Harry’s smile with an equally nasty grin.

Nick was going on about having another atheist, lost soul in the group but Harry wasn’t listening. His eyes were across the room locked in a sea of Louis’ pretty blue eyes. He seemed to be transfixed on him and wouldn’t look away, even long after Louis did.

Only one thought was running through Harry’s mind at that moment and that was, _Louis is definitely boyfriend material_.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, just a quick update for you. I hope you like it :)  
> Warnings:  
> Mentions of sex trafficking, drugs, gang violence, implied abuse

After group was over, Harry was the first to leave seeing that all of the others were chatting amongst themselves. Harry didn’t particularly feel like trying to make friends unless it was with Louis, but his attention was being occupied by Zayn and Niall.

Harry sat down on his bed with the journal Greg gave him, open to a blank page. He grabbed the pen Greg lent him and started writing.

_Dear Diary,_

_Being here in this mental hospital is like being at uni only without the studies. I have to socialize with people I don’t know, eat shit food, share a room with someone I probably don’t get along with. And there’s a beautiful boy here who I probably don’t have a shot with_

That’s all he got to when Zayn walked into their room with Niall and Louis in tow.

“So this is where you disappeared to,” Louis said taking a seat in the extra chair in their room. “We were all hoping we’d get a chance to talk more.”

“Is that so?” Harry asked, closing his journal and shoving it under his pillow.

“Well, some more than others,” Niall said, shooting Louis a mischievous look.

Harry frowned, “What? Not all of you were waiting with baited breath to talk to me? I’m insulted.”

Niall laughed and flopped down on Zayn’s bed, “Hope it’s okay that we’re here to hang out. We’re bit of a chatty group you see, besides Zayn I mean.”

“I can be chatty,” Zayn said and sat down on his bed. He rummaged through his nightstand drawer and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and a wooden ashtray.

“Are you allowed to do that in here?” Harry asked slightly concerned. He wasn’t much of a rule breaker and didn’t like to be around those who broke them.

“Not really no,” Louis laughed. “They just turn a blind eye to it because Zayn’s so pretty.”

“They?” Harry asked, turning to Louis to get a better look at him. Did he really think Zayn was _that_ pretty?”

“Liam and Dr. Calder,” Niall explained.

“I recon it’s because Liam has a crush on Zayn,” Louis said. “And Doc has a crush on Liam so she lets him do whatever he wants.”

“Liam doesn’t have a crush on me, Lou,” Zayn said around the cigarette in his mouth as he lit it. “He’s engaged to a _woman_ for chrissake.”

“It’s the 70’s now, Zayn-o. Straight people aren’t even that straight anymore,” Louis quipped back.

“Either way,” Zayn said blowing out the smoke, “He’s straight and in a committed relationship. Trust me, one of my personalities asked him once.”

“Which one?” Harry asked.

“Her name is Camilla, a saucy Latina woman who’s sluttier than _me_ ,” Louis giggled.

Zayn rolled his eyes at the boy and flicked the excess ashes off his cigarette, “She’s my most problematic personality. She gets me into a lot of trouble.”

“She’s hot,” Niall grinned at Zayn. “She talks dirty.”

“She’s hit on you?” Harry asked.

Niall grinned sheepishly, “All of Zayn’s personalities have a thing for me.”

Zayn laughed and took another drag from his smoke, “This one doesn’t.”

Harry smiled to himself; somehow he thought Zayn wasn’t telling the whole truth.

“So c’mon Curly, what’s your story?” Louis asked suddenly.

Harry looked over at the pretty boy and subconsciously ran a hand through his curly hair, “My story?”

“Yeah,” Louis said shifting in his seat so that his legs were hanging over the armrest. “Like, what set you off the rails? What are you in here for?”

“We’ll tell you our stories if you tell us yours,” Niall offered.

Harry glanced over at Louis who visibly paled and looked down at the floor, he probably didn’t want to share his story at all. “Um, well I tried to kill myself,” he said slowly. “I overdosed on my sleeping meds.”

“Why?” Louis asked, taking interest in the conversation topic again.

“Dunno,” Harry shrugged. “Got overwhelmed with university and, like, I’m a bit fucked in the head I guess.”

“We all are,” Zayn said, putting out his cigarette. The smell was awful and reminded him of his father.

“Let’s hear your life story,” Louis said. “Where did it all go wrong?”

Harry sighed and leaned back against the wall his bed was pushed up against. “My dad left when I was sixteen and didn’t tell anyone. He took all our money and ran off with some woman he met in a bar. Said it was because he didn’t love his dumbass daughter and faggot son. We were better off without him though. I- uh, when I came out as gay, like, my mum and sister were supportive but my dad didn’t really like it.”

“And that’s why you tried to kill yourself?” Louis asked, genuinely curious.

“I- it messed me up,” Harry shrugged, trying to end the conversation.

Niall and Zayn both nodded along saying they understood and none of them tried to pry anymore. Louis, however, had a look in his eye that made it seem like he knew that wasn’t the whole story.

Harry looked away from Louis uneasily and looked to Niall. “What’s your story then?”

“Drugs, gang violence,” Niall said, sighing. “I got into the wrong crowd in high school, we never did hard drugs or anything but… I met this guy named Killian right? And he told me he would help me live the life I wanted with money and booze and girls and fast cars. It all sounded really appealing because my family is dirt poor and I just wanted to have nice things. It just started with selling weed in the hallways at school and then it just… progressed. I sold heroin and cocaine and before I knew it, I was taking the drugs myself. But I was living the good life, until I shot and killed Killian out of self-defense when I didn’t have the money he needed. I was sixteen at the time and I used the insanity plea to get myself out of going to jail. I won the case but they suck me in here for the next ten years of my life.”

“Six with good behavior,” Zayn said, giving him a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder.

Niall smiled, “Since remission, things have been smooth sailing.”

Harry was shocked to say the least. He’d never heard of anything like that ever, but then again he’s lived in a little town for his whole life.

“That was all back when I lived in Ireland,” Niall said. “I’ll never go back, even if that means I have to stay here my whole life.”

 “I don’t even know what to say,” Harry said, shaking his head.

Niall smiled, “Don’t worry about it mate. Not a lot of people do. Your turn Zayn-o. Spill your guts to green eyes over here.”

Zayn smiled, the sheer beauty lighting up the whole room. Until Zayn’s smile fell into a grimace, that is. “I was kidnapped and sold into human trafficking when I was five.”

 “Shit,” Harry breathed.

Zayn shrugged, “I don’t really like to talk about it. I was stuck in that ring for five years, the memories are quite… vivid.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t ask questions,” Harry said. He looked over to Louis who was looking down at his hands and not daring to make eye contact with anyone.

“Lou?” Zayn asked.

“I don’t really want to talk about it if I’m honest, mate,” Louis said to his hands. He wrung them together and swallowed hard, still not making eye contact with anyone.

“Of course you don’t have to,” Harry said in a gentle voice. “You can tell me your life story whenever you feel comfortable.”

Louis glanced up at Harry and offered him a small smile. “Thanks.”

Harry smiled back at him and turned to Zayn, asking him about his personalities and what happens when they come to life. Turns out, Zayn has four personalities: Camilla the “protector”, a seventeen year old girl who was strong willed, hot tempered, and seductive, Charlie the “perpetrator”, a thirty-five year old back man who was mean, strong, and aggressive, Remy the “child alter”, was a six year old boy who never wanted to get out of bed and only ever played with his toys, and Zayn himself who he considered his host personality. Zayn refered to his different alters as “we” and says that when one of the personalities is “out”, Zayn can black out for hours or even days.

“There was one time where Camilla was out for three days,” Zayn said with a smile, “She got us laid five times and all by different guys.”

“Impressive Zayn-o,” Niall laughed. “Why wasn’t I involved in any of that?”

Zayn rolled his eyes, “Because _Niall_ , that’s before they put me in here and Camilla says she doesn’t really like blonds anyway.”

“Can you hear them? Like, talking I mean?” Harry asked.

“In my head?” Zayn asked. “Oh yeah they’re always talking to each other and to me. Camilla doesn’t ever shut up. She thinks you’re cute by the way.”

Harry blushed slightly and giggled, “Tell her I said thank you.”

Louis clicked his tongue quite loudly, “Tell Camilla I said to back off, or she’s going to have to fight me for him.”

“Oh my God,” Harry groaned and slumped over onto his bed, face down in the pillow. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Aw don’t be embarrassed Curly,” Louis said, jumping onto Harry’s bed. He shoved the boy over so that he was lying face up and sat down on his legs. “It’s a compliment, you should be happy that I’d fight someone with three different personalities for you.”

“Get off me,” Harry frowned, “You’ve got a boney arse.”

Louis grinned, “Well-”

“Shut up,” Harry giggled and swept his legs out from underneath Louis who protested very loudly. He sat up and brought his legs up to his chest so he could rest his chin on his knees. He looked at Louis for a beat longer before turning his attention to Zayn who had cleared his throat quite loudly.

“I’ll have you know that Charlie likes girls and Remy doesn’t know what sex is. Looks like you’ll just be fighting me and Camilla for Harry’s attention,” Zayn said to Louis.

“Thanks, Harry,” Niall frowned. “I was the one they always fought over and now that _you’re_ here they haven’t even paid attention to me once.”

“I… what?” Harry asked, furling his eyebrows. “I’m not trying to steal their attention-”

“Whatever, mate,” Niall said and his frown deepened. “I’ll be going then.”

With that, Niall stormed out of the room in a fury while Harry sat on his bed dumbfounded. “What was that all about?” Harry asked both boys.

Louis shrugged and Zayn sighed answering him with, “He’s bi-polar remember? Anything can set him off when he’s not taking his meds. I should go check on him.”

Zayn threw his cigarettes and lighter into his nightstand drawer, got off his bed, and nearly ran out the door after Niall.

“I didn’t mean to make him mad,” Harry said to himself.

“Don’t take it personally,” Louis said, placing his hand on Harry’s arm to comfort him. “Do you want to hear my theory?”

“What’s that?”

Louis leaned into Harry and whispered, “I think Niall has a big fat crush on Zayn and he’s got some wicked jealousy issues. Especially since Zayn is so oblivious about Niall’s feelings, he flirts in front of him all the time.”

“I think Zayn likes Niall too, don’t you think?” Harry asked, glancing down at Louis’ hand that was still gripped firmly on his arm. His hand was warm compared to the chilly room and so he didn’t quite mind that it was still there. He tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating now though.

It was safe to say Louis made him nervous. A good kind of nervous.

“Hard to say,” Louis said, removing his hand from Harry’s arm after he noticed it was still there as well. “I think Zayn is confused about what he’s feeling for people, especially when he’s got three other personalities’ opinions bouncing around there in his head. It’s got to be hard to maintain friendships, let alone relationships.”

“He’s friends with you guys though.”

Louis considered this, “Niall and I have known Zayn for over a year now and we’re both just getting to know him properly. It’s been hard trying to befriend him; he was in a right state when he first got here.”

 “Why?” Harry asked, hushing his voice down.

Louis leaned in again, “Rumor had it that before Zayn got here, he had to get a new therapist and he looked like one of his abuser- I think he was the one who ran the sex trafficking ring he was in. I think, _think_ , the therapist was the guy’s cousin. Anyway, it triggered Camilla to come out- his protector- and she wouldn’t leave until after the threat had been diminished and until Zayn was calmed down. I guess she was quite hostile and his parents put him in here because they didn’t know what else to do. When I first met Zayn it was actually Camilla. According to Greg and Liam she hadn’t gone away until Zayn had been in here for a week.”

“Holy shit,” Harry breathed. “Poor guy.”

Louis nodded. “I’m a real busybody; I know the gossip about everyone. I blame it on my BPD.”

“Or is it just because you’re a gossip?” Harry grinned at him.

Louis pursed his thin lips, “What are you trying to say here Curly?”

Harry smiled brightly and shrugged, “I dunno.”

Louis’ face turned serious after a while and he said suddenly, “I know that’s not your whole story by the way.”

Harry’s face paled, “What do you mean?”

“I get the whole father abandonment thing can really screw someone up,” Louis said, “But I don’t believe that’s all that happened to you. Your eyes are so, so sad Harry. They tell a long painful story and I won’t stop pestering you until I know it.”

Harry frowned, “So what? You can go and gossip with Niall and Zayn about how fucked up I am?”

“No! Don’t you dare assume that about me,” Louis said harshly.

“Look, there’s a reason I didn’t tell you guys my whole story. I barely even know you guys and I’m not sure I can trust you either,” Harry said, his expression turned icy cold. “I don’t just blab my deepest darkest secrets to people until they’ve earned my trust.”

“Self-preservation, I get it. I do the same thing.”

“Is that why you won’t tell me your story?” Harry asked, trying to bite back his harsh tone.

“I have an intense fear of abandonment, Harry,” Louis said, his steely expression falling into a much more vulnerable one. “I’ve gotta make sure the person I’m telling _my_ deepest darkest secrets to isn’t going to run out on me once I’ve told them. I have “inappropriate anger” issues too, if I misplace my trust in someone it doesn’t end well. Trust me, this was all learned by experience.”

Harry didn’t say anything, he just looked at the boy with his mouth pressed into a thin line.

“ _So_ , I’ve gotta make sure I can really trust the person I’m telling too,” Louis concluded.

“I guess we’re not so different,” Harry said after a moment.

Louis fixed his fringe and sighed heavily. “I guess it comes down to this: if we really want to be friends with each other, we’ll tell each other our real stories when we’re ready,” he said.

Harry scrutinized him, “You’re funny and you seem like you’d be a proper riot to hang out with so, yeah, I want to be friends with you Louis. I hope the feeling is mutual.”

“Hmm… well, I also find you quite funny and very charming. Plus you’ve got a really cute bum and a mouth I’d love to just absolutely _wreck_. I guess you could say I want to be a lot more than just friends with you,” he said with a devilish smirk.

“Friends first,” Harry said, feeling a prickling heat slowly crawl up his spine.

Louis laughed, “Okay but since we’re discussing it right now, I need to know. Is the feeling mutual?”

Harry grinned, “Oh yeah, the feeling is definitely mutual.”


End file.
